The Laundromat
by some1lostme
Summary: House, Cameron, underwear and a Laundromat. What else could we ask for? HCam romance.


**Title: **The Laundromat

**Rating: **PG-13

**Summary: **House, Cameron, underwear and a Laundromat. What else could we ask for? H/Cam romance.

**A/N: **This is my first House fanfic. I hope I got the snark right. Reviews would be helpful.

The Laundromat

House stood just outside the door, observing his favorite duckling as she worked. It amused him that she was taking folding laundry to seriously, but this was Allison Cameron, she took everything seriously. House shook his head. With his own bag of laundry slung over his shoulder, he pushed into the Laundromat and approached her.

Something about doing laundry calmed her. Ever since college, something about the mundane and simple task of washing and folding clothes had settled her nerves. The Laundromat had been her sanctuary in college, the place where she studied, and relaxed. Where she hid when the stress was piling up.

It wasn't the same now. Now she was here because she had been forced out of her apartment while the building was being fumigated. She had been so unlucky as to have picked a hotel that didn't have a laundry service, leaving her to do it on her own.

She sighed to herself, shaking her head as she folded her favorite sweatshirt.

House watched her. For some reason watching her seemed so simple, so normal. "Allison-watching" had recently become one of his favorite hobbies. Whether it be when she was with a patient at the hospital, or in her office sorting his mail, or in the conference room making coffee. Whatever it was she was doing, he would find himself staring at her but she never seemed to notice. If she did, she was smart enough not to rub it in.

The hair on the back of her neck suddenly stood on end and Allison froze. She had this particular feeling very often and she would know it anywhere. Her stomach suddenly felt as if it had been invaded by butterflies. She had this same reaction, on average, twenty times a day. She had the same feeling every time House entered a room behind her unannounced.

She turned then, her hands dropping to her sides as she sighed, "You've got to be kidding me."

"I kid you not," House smirked.

"What are you doing here, _Dr. House_?" she snapped.

She watched as he limped closer to her, dropping his laundry bag onto the washing machine beside her.

"Well that's a stupid question."

Cameron rolled her eyes, "Can't you do your laundry at home?"

"I could, but the damn washer broke this morning," House shrugged, "Must be all the T-shirts."

He watched as she fought not to roll her eyes again, instead sighing loudly and turning her back to him.

She went back to folding her clothes. _Just ignore him, _she thought, _Ignore him, fold you clothes and go home._

"And why are you here, Dr. Cameron?" House asked then, watching her shoulders stiffen as he loaded his clothes into a washing machine.

"My apartment is being fumigated," she explained, "And the hotel that I'm staying at doesn't have a laundry service."

"Aw, poor Allison, no one to do your laundry for you?"

Cameron turned sharply then, glaring at him, "I live alone House, who do you think does my laundry when I'm not staying in a hotel?"

He grinned, pushing himself up onto the washer beside her. Cameron turned back to her laundry then, not looking at him as he stared at her. She was trying desperately to ignore him, but he knew she was struggling. He pulled his eyes away from her face to look down into her basket of clean, rumpled clothes. He smiled then, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. She was still avoiding him when he pulled a small scrap of pink fabric from the top of the pile, dangling it on the end of his finger under her nose.

"What the hell is this supposed to be?" he asked, smirking and raising a questioning eyebrow at her.

Cameron snatched the offending garment off of his finger, tossing it back into the basket.

"They're underwear, House, and if you'd been laid anytime this century, you'd know that," she snapped.

There was that glare again.

He laughed at her then and Cameron frowned. She hated that, she hated it when he laughed at her, especially when she was royally infuriated with him. But damn, her head told her she hated him, but her body's reaction said anything but.

"You're learning."

"And you're pissing me off," Cameron snapped, taking another pair of her underwear from his hands.

He waited for her to turn away from him before reaching in and pulling out a rather appealing pair of panties from the basket. These one where blue, and somewhat see-thru, with green and yellow polka dots. If he remembered correctly, he'd seen the exact same pair in last month's Victoria's Secret catalogue. This issue had many dog-eared pages. They were one of his favorites, this particular pair of "cheeky" boyshorts. The ironic thing was, he had imagined Cameron in this very pair, and now here he was, holding the pair that had actually been on her body.

"Do you wear these to work?" House asked, holding them up to get her attention.

She frowned again, rolling her eyes and reaching for them. He only lifted them higher, out of her reach. She gave up, going back to folding the rest of her clothes.

"What difference does it make?" she muttered, adding as an after thought, "You don't have to look at them."

"True, but no one would appreciate a lingerie fashion show more than me," he quipped, waggling his eyebrows disgustingly at her.

Cameron blushed and he was sure he'd hit a sweet spot until she turned to glare at him. She practically ripped her underwear from his grasp and shoved them in her pocket.

"Yeah, well, you already vetoed that, House," she snapped, "You don't like me, remember? Why the hell should I prance around in my underwear for you?"

House didn't speak. He couldn't really. He hadn't actually meant to piss her off. Hell, he hadn't even planned on seeing her here. But here they were and now she was pissed off, looking rather close to tears, and his heart suddenly rebelled against his brain and wanted to pull her into his arms and apologize.

"Cameron…"

"No, you know, what, forget it," she muttered, dropping the pile of folded clothes she'd made into the basket with the unfolded ones, "I'm leaving. Have a nice night, House."

She turned on her heel to leave, laundry basket propped on her hip. House watched her walk away, suddenly realizing that she wasn't going to stop.

"Damn it, Allison," he muttered, sliding off of the washer and making his way as quickly as he was capable after her.

He made it outside just as she slammed the trunk of her car. She glared at him as he moved quickly to the driver's side of the car, blocking her retreat.

"You really can't take a joke can you?" he asked, returning her glare.

"Not everyone finds your jokes funny, House," she snapped, "Now get out of my way."

House sighed, "Fine, would it make you feel better if I told you that I lied?"

Cameron froze, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

"Everyone lies," House shrugged, "That should have been your clue."

"You like me?" Cameron asked, her voice losing all of the vigor it had held just a few minutes earlier.

House sighed, rolling his eyes, "You're not really that stupid, are you? Of course I like you, Cameron, why else would I try so hard to piss you off?"

"Because you're a bastard?" Cameron asked, still frowning slightly.

House chuckled, "That I am, but I have to put up with you too much to piss you off just for fun."

"You know, sometimes I-"

She didn't finish her sentence. It was damn near impossible as House's mouth dropped on hers, his tongue probing it's way into her mouth. She thought for a moment that she may pass out from sheer happiness, but that would be lame. Instead, she attacked his mouth with all of the passion she could muster. Her hands slid around his waist, pulling their bodies closer, hips clashing.

Cameron pulled away, breathing deeply, "I hate it when people lie to me."

"I figured."

"You're going to pay for that, you know," she told him.

"I can't wait."

He kissed her again.


End file.
